


You're leaving me with words unspoken

by queenelodie



Series: wedding gifts [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eloping, F/F, Getting to Know Each Other, Ram Village is the Las Vegas of Zofia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 21:52:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13467300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenelodie/pseuds/queenelodie
Summary: Despite being with her near constantly for almost a week, Clair hasn’t learned about Celica so much as she’s learned what Celica will not allow her to learn.





	You're leaving me with words unspoken

**Author's Note:**

> title is from rain by mika

**The Morning After**

Clair would like to say that she thinks all her actions out logically, but she’s lived in her own head for over two decades and she knows herself better than that. Queen Anthiese, though, with her sober expression and thoughtful way of speaking - Clair would never have accused her of being rash or impulsive.

“Well, it’s not as if we are very familiar with each other,” Queen Anthiese says. She meets Clair’s gaze from across their pillow, already composed even though her hair is in disarray and there is drool at the corner of her mouth. She’s stretched out beside Clair on the bed, close enough that their knees press together, dressed only in a thin nightgown. Clair tries not to notice the way it sticks to her skin with sweat, the way it’s rucked up to the tops of her thighs, but it’s early morning, her head is heavy with the pain of a hangover, and she is only a human being.

Clair begins to respond, but all that comes out of her mouth is a weak croak. Blushing heavily, she clears her throat. “That is precisely my point,” she says, as if she’s lucid enough to even have one. “I would not count us as strangers, but certainly nothing more than acquaintances who are occasionally allies when it comes to politics. Before… before the past couple days, we had barely even conversed. Why did you propose to me?”

“Why did you accept my proposal?” Queen Anthiese replies. To anyone else her expression would be relaxed, but from this close of a distance Clair can watch the tiny flickers of feeling that dance across her face: humor in her eyes, sleepiness in the wrinkles of her forehead, defensiveness in the curve of her jaw. “Why did you come with me, without telling anyone and without asking anyone’s permission, and marry me in a town you barely knew of, in a ceremony that will certainly be the largest scandal of your life?”

There is a long list of reasons Clair could give, starting with how suffocating the everyday details of her life have begun to feel and ending with the way Queen Anthiese’s hair had gleamed in the candlelight when she had approached Clair late that one evening, the way her fingers had curled gently around Clair’s wrist, the way their cheeks had brushed when Queen Anthiese had leaned in to whisper in her ear. Clair’s desire to voice any of these reasons hovers in the negatives.

“I do so love a scandal,” she says blithely, fooling neither of them. “However, what I meant was, I hope you did not propose to me with the expectation that you would ignore me after the wedding. I am not someone to be forgotten, and I would at least like to be friendly with the one I am married to.”

Queen Anthiese brushes her fingers feather-soft across Clair’s cheekbone, so gently that Clair’s face feels hotter than the sun in Ram Village. “Don’t worry, I could never forget you,” she says, merciless with Clair’s feelings. “I understand that this is all rather backwards, but perhaps we should should start simpler, become friends, before we start telling each other our deepest secrets.”

 _A queen like you_ would _have many deep secrets_ , Clair thinks, wanting to be irritated so she can ignore the way her heart is pounding. Anthiese keeps even mundane details about herself pressed so close to her chest that they leave indentations on her skin. Even now her words dance skittishly around the things that she doesn’t wish to say.

“You do make a good point,” she concedes.

Queen Anthiese’s eyes crinkle, as if she knows Clair’s thoughts and finds them funny. Still, she looks so sweet that Clair finds herself smiling back helplessly. Everything about this morning seems like something out of a dream: the small, lumpy peasant bed, the unbearable heat when the day has barely begun, the woman lying next to her. She almost wants to pinch herself, if she weren’t so afraid of waking up.

“Let us start with our names,” Queen Anthiese says, “Please, just call me Celica.”

 

* * *

 

**Tangibility**

Something about Celica is not tangible, in every possible interpretation of that word. Clair was there at her own wedding of course, participated in it even, but sometimes she blinks and sees Celica standing next to her and has no idea why she’s there. Every time she tries to comprehend the motive behind any of Celica’s actions, either her mind falters at the task or Celica notices and slips away from her.

With each step Clair takes to try and understand her better, Celica takes two wary steps in the opposite direction. Sometimes Clair feels that they’re supposed to be dancing through some intricate ritual, but she cannot figure it out on her own and Celica seems to take pleasure in not explaining it to her. It’s not as if Clair is extremely forthcoming herself, but she doesn’t think it’s hypocritical to say that her new wife takes it to an annoying extreme.

“Oh, Clair, there you are,” Celica says the moment she enters their room, moving quickly towards her. She reaches out, touches Clair’s shoulder and then her wrist, fingertips brushing her palm, full of anxious energy. “You were gone when I woke up,” she explains, like that is any excuse for why she’s looking at Clair like Clair was just moments away from breaking her heart.

“I just went out for a walk,” Clair defends, bewildered and guilty despite herself. “I do not think I was gone for so long.”

Celica doesn’t answer, instead she just stands there, holding Clair’s wrist and staring at her with wide, uncomfortably vulnerable eyes.

 _Who would have thought the queen of Zofia was so needy_ , Clair thinks, trying to feel smug about it. She ends up disgustingly charmed instead; Clair has never been needed before.

“Is everything alright?” she asks. “You look as if you’ve just woken up.”

“What?” Celica says. She blinks, then steps back suddenly, letting go of Clair’s wrist. Clair tries not to miss her touch. “Oh, yes, sorry. Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s just that you’ve been here all the previous times I’ve woken up, and when I saw you weren’t here I...”

 _...thought you had run away,_ is the unspoken end to that statement, as if three mornings together is long enough to create a habit strong enough that any deviation is cause for concern. As if Clair has given her any reason to believe she would run away.

“I wanted to walk around Ram Village one more time before we left,” Clair says, and hesitates. “However, I shouldn’t have left without letting you know. That was rather inconsiderate of me.”

“No, you shouldn’t have to tell me about every little thing you do,” Celica says. She steps further away, expression closing off once more, and now Clair is the one left feeling heartbroken. “I must have had a bad dream last night, and woke up feeling strange. You needn’t concern yourself.”

Celica says this with a straight face, like she wasn’t the one who proposed to Clair. _Aren’t I your wife?_ Clair wants to yell at her. _Aren’t your concerns supposed to be my concerns?_ She would never say this out loud, but the idea of being the one to soothe Celica’s fears away fills her with a desperate sort of longing.

Despite being with her near constantly for almost a week, Clair hasn’t learned about Celica so much as she’s learned what Celica will not allow her to learn. During the day, Celica cannot be close to her without combing her fingers through her hair, trailing her fingers across her shoulder, circling her fingers around her wrist, but she draws away the moment she notices her own actions. Each night, Celica sleeps beside her, limbs tangled with Clair’s and heart locked behind bars.

She may not have been the one to propose, but Clair refuses to be passive in this marriage, even if it hurts her pride. She moves to clasp Celica’s hand between hers, and says as earnestly as she can, “The next time I wish to take a walk in the early morning I will wake you up and ask you come along with me. It would be rather romantic to watch the sunrise together, do you not think?”

“...Yes,” Celica says. She turns her face away, but not quick enough to hide the fact that she’s blushing a blotchy red and smiling a little at the corners of her eyes. “I think that would be very nice.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you're trying to figure out the plot, don't worry there is none lol


End file.
